


Good Weekend

by orphan_account



Series: Kaner/Girl!Sharpy [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, F/M, Genderswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-09
Updated: 2012-12-09
Packaged: 2017-11-20 17:49:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/588089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Patrick Kane abruptly discovers his crush on Patricia Sharp at All-Star Weekend, and there is banging and misunderstandings. Set in a universe where there are ladies in the NHL and it's not a particularly big deal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Weekend

**Author's Note:**

> Szabby/Szabados is [Shannon Szabados](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shannon_Szabados), who, in this universe, the Blackhawks picked up after their cup run ~~and then I made out with her on her face~~. The title is from [the song of the same name](http://www.lyricsmania.com/good_weekend_lyrics_art_brut.html) by Art Brut (imagine Kaner saying "I've seen her naked twice! I've seen her _naked, twice!_ ").

"God, Sharpy's hot," Duchene says appreciatively. "How do you stand it?"

"She's my teammate," Kaner says. "Why would I notice?"

"Seriously?" Duchene stares at him. "You're not hitting that?"

"Sharpy's way too good for me," Kaner says.

"No kidding -- hey!"" He rubs his shoulder where Kaner punched him. "I just mean -- you flirt, like, all the time. I figured she just had bad taste."

"What do you mean, we flirt?"

Duchene looks at him like he's an idiot. "I mean you _flirt,_ " he says. "You're all like --" He leans towards Kaner and flutters his eyelashes. "Ooooh, Sharpy, your jokes are so funny! Tell me another!"

"I don't do that," Kaner says. Shit. Does he?

"You _totally_ do that," Duchene says.

"She's my _teammate_ ," Kaner says again. It's the only thing he can think of to say.

"Not this weekend, she's not," Duchene points out.

"I need a drink," Kaner says.

***

Now that he's thought it, he can't un-think it. Sharpy is super hot, and she isn't his teammate this weekend. Whoa.

He doesn't do anything different -- at least, he doesn't think he does -- but it's weird now. Duchene made it weird. Now, when he's leaning on his stick and laughing at Sharpy's dumb jokes, he can't help looking at her.

And he _likes_ looking at her. Her dark hair is always the kind of mess that makes it look like she just had crazy monkey sex, and she has these sparkly light-blue eyes that somebody a lot sappier than Kaner might say looked like Lake Michigan on a sunny day. He kind of wants to stare at her forever.

The other part of him, the part he's been ignoring, wants to do things with her that are definitely not just staring. Kaner watches her mouth move and thinks about kissing her. He looks at the curve of her ass in her workout gear and wonders if she likes it from behind. God, he's losing his mind over _Sharpy._

All through the skills competition, whenever he's not actually skating, Kaner is looking at Sharpy. He watches her and Tazer during the accuracy drill, and even though the video review is good for some prime Tazer-mocking, he just watches Sharpy laugh and thinks about how much he likes making her laugh. He can't wait to start drinking.

***

Later that evening, Kaner is feeling pretty smug about how subtle he's being. He's had a few, sure, but he's basically an expert at being drunk. Nobody is going to notice how often he's looking at Sharpy in her short skirt, and her high heels, and her shiny tights, and her legs... and her ass...

At least, that's what he thinks. One minute, he's leaning up against the bar, gazing into space and thinking about Sharpy's perfect ass, and the next, Sharpy herself is in his face. "Uh, hi?" Kaner says, half a question.

"I could throw this drink in your face," she says cheerfully, her hand on his Jack & Coke, her fingertips just barely touching his, "for the way you were looking at me."

"You could," Kaner hedges. "Or you could... not?"

"I'm thinking not," Sharpy says, but she doesn't let go of the glass. "I'm thinking you should come with me."

"Okay," Kaner says. "Where are we going?"

She doesn't answer him. Instead, she takes away his drink and puts it on the bar behind him, then starts to walk away. Kaner, being human, watches her go for a moment before following her. He does an awkward little half-skip to catch up, and Sharpy smirks at him. "Smooth," she says.

"Baby, I know," Kaner says with a wink.

Sharpy laughs. "Come on," she says, "elevator."

So, she's either going to take him up to her room, or she's going to throw him off the roof, Kaner figures. Could be worse.

In the elevator, Sharpy stands close enough that when it jerks to a stop, her dark hair swings into his face. Kaner is suddenly hit with the urge to get his fingers in it, maybe pull a little so he can see her neck and kiss it.

"Moving in?" Sharpy asks. He didn't notice the elevator stopping, but she's standing in the doors, raising her eyebrows at him.

"Thinking about it," Kaner says. "Got a better property to show me?" He follows her out -- her floor, not the roof.

"Naughty real estate agent? That's a new one."

"I'm always thinking," Kaner says.

She laughs. "Sure you are, Peekaboo."

Her room isn't far from the elevator. Kaner has almost talked himself into asking Sharpy what's going on again when she stops and slides her key card into the lock. Sharpy waves him through first, then follows him, so closely that he can feel her body heat through his clothes.

"Peek," Sharpy says, pushing him back against the door. "You're driving me crazy."

"Ditto," Kaner says. She's got him by the shoulders, and she's looking down at him a little because of her heels. He wants to fuck her so badly he can almost taste it.

"So let's do something about it," Sharpy says, and she leans in to kiss him, fuck, hot and messy, still clutching his shoulders.

Kaner groans into it, but he keeps his hands at his sides. He doesn't want to do anything that might make her stop. When she pulls back, he asks breathlessly, "Can I touch you?"

"Be my guest," Sharpy says, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

He doesn't wait for her to say it twice, just cups her gorgeous ass and tilts his chin up to kiss her again. She rocks back into his hands and makes a noise low in her throat, kissing him back hungrily.

When they break apart for air, Kaner asks, "How about your hair, can I pull your hair?"

Sharpy gulps. "Yeah, you can -- yeah."

Kaner files that away, the way her eyes get a little darker and wider, and grabs a handful of her hair like he was thinking about before. Sharpy's eyes close, and he greedily watches her throat move for a moment, then leans in to run his mouth over it.

She gasps, just like he hoped she would, and arches against him. "Kaner," she says. He likes how it sounds.

"Can I use my teeth?" he asks, pulling back.

She pauses for a second, then says, "Fuck it. Yeah, go for it."

Kaner grins and kisses her neck again. "You sure?"

Sharpy laughs. "You want to mark me up, stake a claim?" One of her hands wanders slowly down his chest.

He breathes out. "Yeah," he says. "Maybe I do."

So he scrapes her throat lightly with his teeth, then looks at the faint red marks he left. It's a good look for her.

"I didn't say you could stop," Sharpy says, breathing hard.

"I'm taking my time," Kaner says, and tugs her hair a little to punctuate it.

She grabs his junk. "Don't take your time."

"I could speed up a little," he agrees. This time he doesn't hesitate to bite, and the noise she makes is both really flattering and really hot. That, and she changes her grip on his dick from "oh shit" to "this would be great if I weren't wearing pants."

"Kaner," Sharpy says.

"Hmm?" He's really into the way she's kind of pressing her neck into his face.

"You can touch me other places, you know."

Kaner grins. "Maybe you should ask me nicely," he suggests.

Sharpy hisses a breath out through her teeth. "Seriously, Peeks?"

"I could just go vampire all night," Kaner says, and demonstrates by nibbling her neck again. She's getting a pretty awesome-looking hickey, and he's loving the shit out of teasing her. "Or you could tell me what you want me to do."

She grabs his hair and pulls him off her neck so he's looking into her eyes. "I want you to go down on me," she says.

Now it's Kaner's turn to gulp. "Yeah, I can do that," he says. He thinks about spreading her out on the bed, or maybe getting her to sit on his face. Then he decides, fuck it, and drops to his knees.

"Kaner," Sharpy says again, only this time she sounds amused and turned on instead of mad.

He looks up at her and wiggles his eyebrows. "Hold on, baby."

Sharpy rolls her eyes at him, but she tugs her tights and panties down below where her skirt ends, then braces one arm against the door. "You need more information?"

"I can take it from here," Kaner says. He shoves her tights down below her knees and her skirt up to her waist, then gets his face right in there. 

He likes eating pussy, which he's heard from reliable sources is at least half of being good at it. The whole experience, the way it's slippery and messy and awesome, the part that's about noticing what she's into or not and reacting to it, the way it's like Sharpy is filling his whole world -- oh, yeah, he's into it. He licks and sucks, and he's totally in the zone.

"...Are you _spelling your name?_ " Sharpy asks him suddenly.

"What, you're not into it?" He's pretty sure she is, though.

She pauses, then says, "Spell _my_ name, and then we'll see."

So Kaner spells P-A-T-R-I-C-I-A S-H-A-R-P, and then S-H-O-O-T-E-R. She keeps one hand on his head while she writhes against him, and that's pretty good for him, good enough that he sticks one hand in his pants, just to get a little pressure on his dick.

"Oh god," Sharpy says. "Come on, harder," and he feels her quiver against his mouth as she comes.

"Yeah, that's right," Kaner says, pleased. 

"Fuck. Condom, do you have a condom?" Sharpy asks. "Get on the bed." She bends over -- nice -- and starts digging in her purse.

Kaner stumbles to his feet and fishes around in his wallet until he finds one. "Here, catch," he says, tossing it to her so he can take off his clothes.

"It's expired," she says, like he handed her a dead fish, and sits down on the bed.

"Fuck." Kaner stops with his shirt half off. Maybe she'll blow him or something?

"Oh, don't look at me like I killed your puppy." Sharpy pulls her dress off over her head. "Come on, get naked already, Peeks. We'll use our heads."

"If you say so," Kaner says. He drops his shirt on the floor and sits on the bed next to Sharpy.

"Let's try this," she says, and pushes him down onto his back, then straddles him.

"Oh," Kaner says, when his dick brushes her lower belly. He bucks up against her, and she grinds down, and he says "Nnnrgh."

"Like that?" Sharpy asks, smiling like an asshole.

"Fuck yeah," Kaner says, and he pulls her down for a kiss. She doesn't seem to mind the taste of herself on his mouth, just kisses him like there's nothing she'd rather be doing than making out and dry humping with him. Well, sort of dry humping. Moist humping?

Sharpy bites down on his lower lip, and oh, jeez, that's good. "Come on," she says, reaching down between them to wrap her hand around his dick. 

"Shit, Sharpy," he says, and he comes all over her hand.

"Nice job, Peeks," Sharpy says. She wipes her hand off on the hotel comforter -- Kaner has to push the CSI: Miami theme song out of his head -- and braces it against his chest to kiss him again.

"You know it," Kaner says, dazed.

"We could do it again after a nap."

Mama Kane didn't raise any fools. "Awesome," Kaner says. He starts to get up and go to the spare bed, but Sharpy reaches out and grabs his wrist.

"Don't think you get out of cuddling," she says.

"I fucking _own_ at cuddling," Kaner informs her. He climbs into the bed and gets an armload of warm Sharpy right away. She's a really active cuddler, grabbing his arm to wrap it around her, pressing her ass against him. It's pretty awesome. He falls asleep with his face in Sharpy's hair.

***

"Kaner. Hey. Hey, Kaner."

He wakes up, sort of, and blinks. "Whuh?"

Sharpy is standing by the bed in her pajamas, holding a strip of condoms. "I begged some condoms off Erica Staal," she says. "Want to fuck me?"

Kaner stretches lazily and grins up at her. "I could do that," he says. 

And he does, twice. The first time, Sharpy rides him and fingers her own clit until she's panting, and the second time, she lies back in the pillows and gives Kaner instructions. She has him go slow, then faster and faster, and then -- when he's about to come -- slow again. He pinches himself hard, then bends down to kiss her breasts and play with her nipples until she's glassy-eyed and tugging at his hair.

Basically, it's _totally_ worth how tired he is the next day. He even claps when Sharpy makes MVP, even though she's technically on the other team.

***

So, pretty much everything in Kaner's life is awesome. He got to bang Sharpy at the All-Stars, and they're still friends like before, and the Hawks wiped the floor with the Oilers, and he signed a rally towel for a super-hot babe earlier. What more could he need, besides maybe a couple more wins or, like, a genie?

That's why it takes him a little while to figure out what Sharpy wants when she drags him into her hotel room in Edmonton by the collar. She just stands there, looking at him expectantly, and he stares at her.

"Um, hi," Kaner says finally, feeling like an idiot.

"Seriously, Kaner?" Sharpy takes a step into his personal space. "Even you can't be this bad at picking up signals."

She licks her lips, and Kaner gets it. "Oh," he says, and he kisses her.

"I have condoms," Sharpy says, which might, Kaner thinks, be the three most beautiful words in the English language. She pulls one out of the pocket of her skirt. "Put this on."

Kaner drops trou and fumbles the wrapper open. Sharpy is undressing, unbuttoning her blouse to reveal one of those lacy little tank tops she likes to wear, and it makes his fingers feel like hot dogs.

"Come on," she says, when she notices him just standing there watching her. "I'll wait."

He hurries to roll the condom on, barely managing not to send it sproinging across the room. "Okay, okay," he says, pulling his shirt off over his head.

Sharpy looks him up and down. "At least take your shoes off," she says.

"Oh. Right." He toes them off, then takes his socks off too, because nobody wants to see a naked guy in socks.

"Better," Sharpy says, and steps out of her skirt. Kaner feels crazy lucky to see this, especially when she bends over to take off her underwear and lets him get a look at her ass.

"Everybody is jealous of me right now," Kaner says reverently. "They don't know it, but they totally are."

Sharpy smiles at him and takes off her top. "Damn right," she says. She reaches behind herself to undo her bra, and her tits jiggle awesomely when they're free.

"What do you want?" Kaner asks. His eyes are still on her tits.

"Like this," she says. She kisses him, plastering herself against him, and walks them backwards until her legs hit the bed. Kaner overbalances, and they topple over, landing with Sharpy on her back and Kaner on top of her, laughing.

Kaner looks down at Sharpy, her laughter slowly trailing off, and tilts her chin back so he can kiss her neck. He wants to kiss her everywhere, so he does, making his way down to her collarbones, her cleavage, her nipples. When he gets to her stomach, it quivers a little. "Ticklish?" he asks.

"I will murder you," Sharpy says.

"You _are_!" Kaner traces a path down her abs with one finger, and they quiver again, like she's working hard to stay still. "I could use this power for evil."

"I'm serious," Sharpy says. "I'll murder you, and I'll display your head on a pike outside my -- aah!" She yanks his hair vengefully.

"I'll never do it again," Kaner promises.

"Your fingers are crossed. I can _see them_ ," Sharpy says.

"Fine," Kaner says. "I'll only tickle you when I absolutely, positively have to." He kisses where he tickled her, right where her waist spreads out into her hips.

"That'll do," Sharpy says. "I suppose."

"I could make it up to you," Kaner offers, laying his hand just north of her pussy so she'll know what he means. Then he adds, "I mean I could go down on you."

Sharpy laughs and sort of pets him, her hair gentle in his hair where she pulled it. "You could," she agrees. "Or you could fuck me before that condom falls off."

"It won't," Kaner says. "I really like giving head. Like, I _really_ like it."

"Seriously?" She cranes her neck to look at him, which should give her a double chin, except she's Sharpy. "...Okay, then, if you want."

He does want, so he eats her out until she's sobbing his name and gripping handfuls of the sheets, and he's rubbing off against a fold of the bedspread.

"Kaner, _Kaner,_ " Sharpy says. "C'mon, Peekaboo, fuck me, please!"

"Okay," Kaner says, kind of breathless already. He hauls himself to his feet while Sharpy scoots back on the bed, then kneels between her legs and just... gazes at her. She looks wrecked, but in a good way, where he can look at her sweaty face and wild hair and know he did that, he made her look that way.

"Please," Sharpy says again, and who could say no to Sharpy? Not Kaner. He lines his dick up and thrusts in, and she wraps her legs around him to pull him deeper.

Once they find a rhythm, Sharpy drags his head down for a kiss, and Kaner goes happily. Making out is great; making out during sex is even better. Especially with Sharpy. A lot of things are better with Sharpy.

Kaner pushes that thought away, telling himself to live in the fucking moment. The _fucking_ moment, literally, ha. He's banging one of the hottest ladies on the planet; it's a pretty great moment to live in, even if it won't last.

It's a surprise to Kaner when Sharpy comes, squeezing him with her legs like a sexy boa constrictor and panting into his shoulder. He comes pretty fast after that. When he throws the tied-off condom at the trash, he manages to sink the shot on the first try, which he figures has to be good luck.

"So," he says. "Cuddling?"

"Cuddling," Sharpy agrees.

***

The next morning, Kaner wakes up before Sharpy does. He puts his clothes on and sneaks back to the room he shares with Tazer -- he's not 16, it's not like Q will be sitting in the hallway like a gargoyle to chaperone, but old habits die hard.

Tazer doesn't wake up when he comes in, just makes a kind of snuffling noise and rolls over. Some things never change. Kaner undresses and gets into bed for a little more sleep.

"Get up," Tazer says, what feels like no time later. He's standing between their beds and staring down at him. "Kaner. Get up."

"What are _you_ doing up?"

"Our flight leaves in, like, an hour," Tazer says.

That can't be right. "No," Kaner says.

"Yes." Tazer scowls at him. "Get up, or you'll have to walk back to Chicago."

"Ugh." Kaner gets up, puts on pants, and starts stuffing things into his suitcase.

"You could thank me," Tazer says, cramming his shaving kit into his own suitcase.

Kaner comes over and hugs him from behind like a sloth. "Thank you, oh mighty captain, light of my life, the reason for my season," he says in his best Lifetime movie voice (not that he's seen a Lifetime movie... recently).

Tazer elbows him in the gut. "Get off," he says. "You smell."

"I smell great," Kaner says. He sniffs his armpit surreptitiously -- not too bad, anyway.

"You smell like sex." Tazer sits on his suitcase to close it.

"Yeah, sex with _Sharpy_ ," Kaner says, "which means I smell _hot_." He puts on a little extra deodorant before buttoning his shirt anyway.

Then he realizes that Tazer is staring at him with, like, twice his usual intensity, which is nine hundred times more intense than normal people's stares. "You slept with Sharpy?"

"Oh," Kaner says. "...Yes?"

"How?" Tazer asks. "No offense."

"What can I say, she recognizes true greatness," Kaner says, and brushes off his shoulders.

Tazer flips him off. "I thought she didn't, with teammates," he says.

"Maybe that's what she told _you_."

"That's what she told Stalberg, and Versteeg, and Szabby, and, like, half the Flyers," Tazer says.

"I'm just special or something, I guess," Kaner says. He points to his dick and wiggles his eyebrows.

"Or something," Tazer says, rolling his eyes.

***

Kaner barely sees Sharpy before they board, and then she just curls up in her seat next to Szabados and falls asleep. She sticks in his head, though. He blasts Weezy through his earbuds and thinks. Does Sharpy really never sleep with teammates? Why would she break that rule for him? And she broke it twice.

Kaner's seen plenty of crime shows, though, so he knows that twice is a coincidence, but three times is a pattern. He's not going to assume anything when it's only been two times. That would just be setting himself up for... something.

God, she's hot, though. Kaner closes his eyes and thinks about Sharpy's ass, and he falls into a doze with a smile on his face.

***

At practice the next day, Kaner skates up towards Sharpy between drills like always. "Hey, Sharpy, watch this!" he calls. "Top left corner!" He hits the mark with a wrist shot, more than halfway down the rink, and looks to see if she saw.

"Nice job, showoff," Sharpy drawls, but she's smiling at him.

In the locker room, Stalberg asks if anybody wants to go to Rockit later, and Duncs says, "Like anyone can compete if you're their wingman?"

"Worth a try," Stals says. "Come on. Kaner?"

"Sure," Kaner says. "Bet I can pick up a hotter chick than you can, too."

"Bet you can't," Seabs says.

Kaner's about to say something back when he sees the look in Tazer's eyes. He looks like a deer that was possessed by a demon and then got caught in the headlights of a pickup truck full of teenagers (not that Kaner has experience with that), and he's looking past Kaner.

He turns around just in time to see Sharpy disappearing through the door. "Anyway, I'm a sex god," he says quickly, "so maybe I'll bless you with my presence tonight, or maybe I won't. Later for you."

Running with his feet only half in his sneakers doesn't work very well, but Kaner catches up to Sharpy in the players' lot somehow anyway. "Hey," he says, hopping on one foot to fix his shoe. "Are you mad or something?"

"Why would I be mad?" Sharpy asks, but she's looking at her car keys, not at him.

"If you were, it would probably be for a very good reason," Kaner tries. He didn't grow up with three sisters for nothing.

"Damn right," Sharpy says. "And I don't have a very good reason, so I can't be mad."

"...Good?" Kaner says. He thinks it's good, anyway.

"I'll see you later, Kaner." Sharpy moves his hand off her car door, gets in, and leaves him standing there.

Kaner has a feeling that didn't go very well.

***

At home, he takes a beer out of the fridge and opens it, then sits at the couch and stares at the TV screen without bothering to turn anything on. That makes him feel even more pathetic than he already did, though, so he flips through the channels until he lands on a cooking show.

That's good for a while, but then the hotness of the chef lady reminds him of how hot Sharpy is, and thinking of Sharpy makes him feel weird.

Why would she be mad at him, anyway? She's the one who's... using him for sex, or whatever. That's not _his_ fault. He takes a swig of his beer, feeling self-righteous. Sharpy has no good reason to be mad at him, she said it herself!

Kaner thinks about going to Rockit with Stalberg after all, but he doesn't really feel like it. He tries to sort of tempt himself into it, thinking about dancing up on some hotties, having a few drinks, hanging out with the guys... but nah.

Erica would tell him he was having a pity party, Kaner is pretty sure, but whatever. Maybe he deserves a pity party. He can play Call of Duty and drink the beer he already has, and he won't think about Sharpy at all. Even if she's really good at Call of Duty. Even though it's the kind of beer she likes. Fuck.

He's determined to put her out of his mind, though, and he actually manages it for a few hours. Then he goes to take a nap, and... doesn't.

Kaner's not ashamed of his jerk-off fantasies. Maybe if anyone else knew about them, he would be, but it's not like he goes around telling people what he chokes the chicken to. Those are inside thoughts, and since he's, like, 90% sure the X-Men aren't real, they can stay that way. 

His spank bank isn't even that weird, as far as he can tell. Like, who doesn't think about having a hot chick sit on their face or stick it to them with a dildo, or going bi for Edward Cullen? He's totally normal.

Still, he feels a little sappy and weird when he thinks about looking into Sharpy's eyes while they fuck and finds himself frantically humping the mattress. Jerking it to all the filthy ways they can bang, that's normal, but looking into her eyes? What next, is he going to find out he has a fetish for holding hands?

Oh, God, maybe he does. Kaner rocks his hips against the mattress and thinks about sitting on the couch, watching The Notebook or some shit and holding Sharpy's hand in his. Fuck, he really does want to hold hands with her. He could get off just thinking of that, not even anything sexy.

Well, maybe, but thinking about sexy things will help. Kaner rolls over and gets some lotion in his hand. Does Sharpy have a vibrator? She probably does. Maybe she'd put it in his butt. She'd almost definitely do butt stuff to him with her fingers, at least, if he asked, and if they weren't kind of in a fight.

This is his fantasy, though, so he pictures Sharpy strapping it on and bending him over the arm of the couch. He fucking loves her hands. She'd probably dig them into his hips, maybe hard enough to leave bruises, and she'd totally pull his hair, like she does when he's eating her out. Oh, yeah, that's what he wants. Kaner holds his breath and comes so hard he sees stars.

***

Later, when he's eating delivery Thai and drinking another beer, Kaner's phone rings.

"You fucked up," Tazer says.

"So what else is new?" Kaner says, and snorts.

"With Sharpy," Tazer adds unnecessarily. "You have to fix it."

"How do you know? Do you have her bugged or something?" Kaner thinks about that for a moment. "If you do, I want video."

"You and everyone else," Tazer says. "Do you know how much Playboy offered her?"

"How much?"

"I don't know, but it was a lot. Like... a lot."

"But seriously," Kaner says, "how do you know I fucked up?"

Tazer sighs heavily. "People talk to me," he says.

" _Sharpy_ told you?"

"Worse. Scotty did."

"She talked to _John?_ " Kaner is confused and jealous. Jeal-fused. That should be a word.

"She wasn't asking him for help with her skating, Kaner," Tazer says.

"Well, good." Kaner drinks some more beer, vengefully. "Did he spill?"

"He didn't spill," Tazer says disapprovingly. "He had a feeling that you didn't know what was going on."

"I don't," Kaner says. "She looked mad, so I followed her, and she said she wasn't mad, but I'm pretty sure she is. I know that much."

"Feelings," Tazer says, like he might say "dead fish."

"What do you mean, feelings? I don't have feelings. She's using me for sex, and I'm fine with that. It's great," Kaner says all in a rush.

Tazer sighs again. "I didn't mean you," he says.

"...Oh," Kaner says. "Wait. You mean Sharpy has feelings? Like, for me?"

"No," Tazer says, "for Leddy. Yeah, for you, asshole. She has terrible taste, I guess."

"You mean awesome taste," Kaner corrects him automatically. "Everybody should want to bang me."

"Scotty says she doesn't just want to bang you," Tazer says. "He's pretty sure she wants to date you."

Kaner blinks. He looks at his phone and turns the speaker on and off. "Come again?"

"You should probably talk to her," Tazer says. "At least, that's what Scotty said. He is married, I guess."

"I guess I should listen, then," Kaner says, bewildered. "Good talk, bro."

"Good luck, or whatever," Tazer says. "Don't fuck up the team or I'll kill you."

"I know you will," Kaner says; strangely, he finds that comforting. "I'll let you know how it goes, if you want."

"Sure," Tazer says. "Then I'll know what kind of flowers to send."

"I'm gonna hold you to that," Kaner says. "This place could use a touch of color."

"I'm hanging up on you." And he does.

Kaner stares at his phone again. On the one hand, he could call Sharpy right now, rip-the-bandaid-off style. On the other hand, he could put it off until their next road game, on the 21st, when she might be in the mood to have sex with him, and therefore willing to talk to him a little bit. On the third hand (Tazer would probably lend him one, metaphorically speaking), he could go over to Sharpy's, and then he'd get to see her sooner.

Oh, jeez. If he's thinking like that, he must be really far gone on her, Kaner thinks. He really hopes Scotty wasn't just talking out his ass.

***

So, the next morning, he goes over to Sharpy's. Well, "to Sharpy's" might be a slight exaggeration. Kaner gets to her building. Then he stops. Should he have brought flowers or something? He saw a guy carrying flowers on his way here.

No, that would be dumb. Sharpy would just make fun of him. ...On the other hand, she enjoys making fun of him, so that might be good...

Kaner paces back and forth in front of the building a few times, psyching himself up to go in. It's not hard. He's gone over to Sharpy's tons of times before. Just go through the door, you pansy, he tells himself.

"Whoa!" says the woman he just walked into.

Whoops. "Sorry," he says, already starting to turn away.

"...Kaner?"

He looks up, and, of course, it's Sharpy, walking her dog. "Hi," he says lamely. "I was..."

"Stalking me?" She raises her eyebrows at him under her Cubs hat.

"Would it help if I said I was about to ring the bell?" Kaner tries.

"A little," Sharpy says. "C'mon, Shooter's getting restless. Let's go to the dog park."

They crunch east through the frozen slush. "Sick booties you got there, Shooter," Kaner tells the dog. They're neon orange and goofy-looking, but Shooter looks very serious in them.

"Gotta keep the salt off his paws," Sharpy says.

"Hey, I wouldn't want to walk around in this barefoot either." Kaner holds up his hands in surrender.

"Just so you're not calling my dog a wimp." Was that a smile? Kaner really hopes that was a smile.

"No way," he says. "Shooter is tough. You're a bruiser, eh, Shooter?"

Shooter ignores him. That's cool, though. Kaner knows he's great, even if a dog disagrees.

They reach the little fenced-in dog park, and Sharpy pulls a tennis ball out of her coat pocket. "Fetch," she says, and throws it down the length of the park. Shooter races off, ears flapping.

Kaner leans back against the fence, hands in his pockets, and watches for a little while. Sharpy throws the ball, Shooter chases it, snow falls off the tree branches. It's nice. He'd like to... he'd like to do this again. A lot.

"So," Sharpy says after a while. "Did you come over just to watch me play with my dog?"

"I heard you talked to Scotty," Kaner says, and immediately regrets it, because Sharpy stiffens.

"What did he tell you?" she demands.

"Nothing," Kaner says quickly. "He didn't tell me anything."

She narrows her eyes. "What did he tell Toe-es?"

"That, uh." Kaner scuffs his toe in the snow until he can see the grass underneath. "I mean, I don't know if Tazer's right, or if he understood, or --"

Sharpy punches him in the arm. "Get to the point."

"He thought maybe you might want to date me," Kaner blurts out. "It's okay if you don't. I'd probably be a bad, like, boyfriend or whatever."

Sharpy bends down to take the ball back from Shooter. "Way to sell it, Peeks," she says quietly.

"Wait. You mean he was right?" Kaner feels like he's getting a head rush. "You do want to date me?"

"I kind of thought I _was_ dating you," Sharpy says. "That's why I got all stupid and jealous when you were talking about picking up."

"You were jealous?" Kaner fist-pumps, then realizes that might not be the reaction Sharpy was hoping for. "Um..."

But she's laughing. "So, you don't think it's the worst idea in the world?"

"Well, it might be," Kaner says. "But I want to do it anyway. I want to do _you_ anyway," he adds, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Yeah, well." Sharpy tosses the ball in the air and catches it a few times. "I want to do you anyway too. Happy Valentine's day."

Oh, shit. "Ha ha," Kaner says weakly.

"You didn't know?" Sharpy laughs. "Guess I'm not getting flowers."

"I thought about flowers," Kaner says. "...After I got to your place."

"I don't really want flowers," Sharpy says, and moves into Kaner's space. "I bet you can think of a better Valentine's Day present."

Kaner has a pretty good idea, actually. "Nothing I can do in a dog park," he says.

Sharpy smiles. "I think Shooter's had enough exercise for now."

They walk back to Sharpy's apartment quietly, but it's a much more comfortable silence than the one on the way there. Kaner thinks about holding her hand, but right when he's about to make his move, Shooter does his business. Sharpy does her part as a good citizen and picks it up in a bag, and Kaner puts his hand back in his pocket.

In the elevator, Sharpy takes off her mittens and puts them in her pockets, and doesn't look at Kaner. He takes his gloves and hat off too, like the least sexy striptease ever. Sharpy leads him and Shooter into the apartment, then bends down to take Shooter's leash off.

"Stay there," she says.

"What?" Kaner asks, not sure if she means him or the dog.

"Against the door."

Kaner slams the door shut and plasters his back against it. He's expecting something sexy to happen.

He's not disappointed. "Pants down," Sharpy directs, turning around. "I want to blow you."

"...Really?" Kaner asks. His brain feels like it's shorted out, butsomehow his hands are undoing his fly and shoving his boxers and khakis down to his knees.

"Yeah, really," Sharpy says. She examines his dick like it might be a snake, and Kaner pinches the inside of his arm, because somehow even that is hot when it's her.

"You don't have to," Kaner says, which should really get him nominated for sainthood. He really likes how she looks on her knees, but not so much if she doesn't want to be there.

She looks up at him. "I know," she says. "You can pull my hair, but don't choke me, okay, Peekaboo?"

Kaner gulps. "Yeah, okay." He can do that. He'll pinch himself black and blue if he has to.

Sharpy nods, and then puts her mouth on his dick. She's sort of tentative about it, like she is about nothing else, and Kaner pets her hair encouragingly.

She pulls off. "Well?" she asks, scowling.

"You're doing great, bud," Kaner says. He swallows hard. "Just, uh. Keep doing what you're doing."

She sucks him into her mouth again, a little less gently, and Kaner's fingers tighten in her hair. 

"Yeah, that's -- oh, yeah," Kaner says. He's pretty sure this isn't objectively the best blowjob he's ever had, but he's also pretty sure he doesn't give a fuck, because it's _Sharpy_. She could probably just talk about sucking his dick and get him off.

She plays with his balls a little, and Kaner wants to close his eyes at how good it feels, only he doesn't want to miss a second of this. Sharpy's lips around his dick, her messy hair between his legs, the way her fucking eyelashes look on her cheeks. God, he is so gone.

Kaner winds a strand of Sharpy's hair around one finger and tugs. When she looks up, he says, "I'm gonna come," and she lets his dick slide out of her mouth.

"I don't think I want --" she says, and Kaner says, "Just get me a Kleenex or --"

Sharpy grabs a handful of tissues, and Kaner jerks him off a little more. She stays on her knees, which helps, and he reaches out to grab her hair when he comes.

He slides down the door, bare-assed, and pulls Sharpy in for a kiss. "Happy Valentine's Day," Sharpy says when they break apart.

"Happy Valentine's Day," Kaner says. "Once I can find my hands again, I'm going to eat you out until you scream."

"Cool," Sharpy says, and kisses him again.


End file.
